Perfect Timing
by Irina
Summary: An H/G first date. Short, charming, and cute.


**Perfect Timing   
  
An H/G ficlet by Irina**   
  
Ginny Weasley had been sound asleep. She groaned and batted ineffectually at the hand that shook her shoulder, but it didn't stop. She cracked her eyes open and demanded, "What do you want?" ruining the effect of her irritated words with a huge yawn.   
  
Harry grinned. "How long have you been down here?"   
  
Ginny slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Dunno. What time is it?"   
  
He glanced at the tall clock in the corner of the common room. "Half past twelve."   
  
"Then…um…three hours? Give or take? What are you doing down here?"   
  
Harry blinked, suddenly flustered. "We were supposed to meet. I thought you were here because you were waiting for me."   
  
His words jerked Ginny out of drowsy half-consciousness faster than a Cornish pixie's airspeed. She pushed her tangled hair back from her red face and stammered, "Oh! I…I'm sorry. I…um…well, I remembered, but then I feel asleep, and I must have forgotten, but you can't really hold it against me because, as I said, I was asleep and I –" The only thing worse than not being able to talk in front of Harry was rambling in front of him. She shut up, cheeks burning, and silently cursed herself for being so weird. What must he be thinking?   
  
The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up in a smile, and his emerald eyes sparkled with silent amusement. He was trying not to laugh at her. Ginny had seen that look often enough on her classmates to recognize it on him. "What's so funny?" she demanded, the anger in her voice masking the embarrassment she actually felt.   
  
"Nothing."   
  
She heard the catch of suppressed laughter in his reply, and immediately assumed that he was making fun of her. "It's not nothing. Tell me, or I'm going upstairs." She crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed that he wouldn't call her bluff.   
  
"It's your face –"   
  
Now he'd done it. "Look, I know that I have red hair, and that means that I blush more easily than, say, Hermione, but you wouldn't draw attention to it and you definitely wouldn't laugh if you were any kind of –"   
  
"No, Ginny." Harry's shoulders were shaking in earnest now. "It's not that. You fell asleep on an embroidered pillow. It left a mark."   
  
"What?" she cried, her hand flying up to her face. Sure enough, she could feel the ridges pressed into her skin by the pillow's design. She jumped off the sofa and ran to the mirror at the other end of the room. The crest of Gryffindor House stood out just below her right cheekbone, mauve against the pink of her cheek. "Oh hell," she muttered under her breath. This was _not_ going the way she'd imagined. Not at all.   
  
Harry was impossibly amused. He'd never heard her curse before. "It's really not so bad," he said in a vain attempt to make her feel better. "At least it's Gryffindor, right?"   
  
At least he was making the effort. Ginny turned and leaned against the wall, carefully angling her head so that her copper hair hid the right side of her face from his view. "So, what are we doing tonight?"   
  
"I told you it was a surprise," Harry said. The slight smirk that remained on his face showed that he knew exactly why she was standing at such an odd angle, half her head tilted away from him.   
  
"Oh." Ginny thought about that for a moment. "Well," she said, brightening up, "it's time now. There's no reason for you not to tell me."   
  
He produced his invisibility cloak with a theatrical flourish.   
  
Ginny was a Gryffindor to the core. Her eyes lit up with the challenge of something slightly forbidden. He'd roused her interest. Ron, Harry, and Hermione broke the rules all the time, but she'd never been included in their adventures. It was as though they thought her too delicate or weak for out-of-bounds escapades, or believed she'd tell a teacher if she discovered their plans. Neither of these were true. She just needed a chance to prove it.   
  
"Where are we going?"   
  
"You'll find out when we get there," Harry said with a teasing grin. "You don't mind braving Filch and Mrs. Norris, do you? I promise it's worth it."   
  
Ginny nodded. "I don't mind."   
  
"Good."   
  
Harry threw the invisibility cloak over her head, and then ducked beneath it himself. He whispered in her ear, "We won't be able to talk when we're in the halls; Filch is always around, and I don't think Snape ever sleeps either. We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves."   
  
"Right," Ginny whispered back, trying to sound nonchalant, as though she'd done this a thousand times before.   
  
"And another thing," Harry said as he eased open the portrait door, "don't forget, if you put any part of your body outside the cloak, it's not invisible anymore."   
  
Ginny walked as close to Harry as possible without actually touching him. She was hyper-conscious of the heat of his body, a sharp contrast to the chilly air of a winter night in the drafty castle. She stumbled in the dark and grabbed the wall to catch herself before she could fall.   
  
Harry's hand closed around her arm. "I just told you," he whispered, "don't stick anything outside the cloak. You don't want McGonagall to catch us, do you? Believe me, she's caught me out of bed at night before; Gryffindor House would never forgive us the loss of points."   
  
"Sorry," Ginny murmured back, inwardly cringing. "It's just hard to keep my balance when I can't see. Where are we going?" He didn't answer. "A hint?" she pressed.   
  
"Outside," he said. "No more talking until we get there." He wrapped his arm around her waist and awkwardly drew her near his side. Ginny stiffened at the contact, but forced herself to relax. She was glad he seemed as nervous as she. Still, there was really no other way for both of them to stay concealed beneath the invisibility cloak. If they weren't clinging to each other, the silvery fabric simply wasn't large enough to cover them both.   
  
His left hand rested lightly against her waist, fingers held stiffly rather than curling into her side, as though he was worried that his touch would upset her. She wished he'd calm down. She'd have no problem acting normal, if only he would too.   
  
She saw his hand emerge from the silver folds and silently crack open the castle's front door. They both eased through the small opening, and then Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off their bodies. The fabric cracked with static electricity as it rubbed along his hair, leaving it standing on end. Ginny giggled.   
  
His mouth curved in a shy, self-conscious smile as he tried in vain to smooth the wild locks down over his forehead. This made her feel marginally better about imprinting a pillow on her face.  
  
"We're outside," Ginny said. "Now where?"  
  


"The Quidditch pitch," he replied, giving up on his hair. It was a hopeless case.   
  
"You want to play a midnight game?" Ginny asked. She raised an eyebrow, a maneuver she'd learned from Bill.   
  
"No," Harry said, "but I _do_ want to get our brooms. Keep to the shadows; we don't want anyone spotting us from the castle. And," he checked his watch, "we have to hurry."   
  
"We're on a schedule?" Ginny asked in surprise as he took off running. Although he wasn't very tall, Harry was extremely fast. She didn't have a chance to press him to answer; she was too out of breath trying to keep up as he sprinted across the lawns.   
  
By the time Ginny reached the broom shed, Harry was already inside. She peered in the dark mouth of the door, squinting against the night blackness, but didn't go in after him. Ever since her first year, she'd been nervous of dark, enclosed places. "Harry?" she called in a whispered shout.   
  
"Right here," he said, emerging from the darkness, a broom in each hand. The dull gray starlight glistened across his skin, gilding it with a faint silver glow. He handed her one of them and straddled the other. "Are you ready?"   
  
Ginny turned the polished handle over in her hand. "But this is your Firebolt!"   
  
"Yeah," he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "I have Ron's Shooting Star."   
  
"Your Firebolt!" Ginny exclaimed again, unable to believe she was holding an international standard broom. A flying work of art.   
  
"If you'd rather," Harry teased, "_I'll_ fly the Firebolt and _you_ can have this one."   
  
Ron's ancient broom was vibrating rather strangely. Ginny looked from it to Harry's eyes and grinned. "That's all right. I'll make do with yours, I suppose."   
  
"Awfully big of you, Gin," Harry said, affection and humor lighting his eyes. "And now, we really have to hurry if we're going to make it on time."   
  
"Wait," she said, kicking off the ground after him. "Where are we going?"   
  
"Follow me," was all he would say.   
  
There was nothing else she _could_ do. Together, they soared into the night sky. She had to pay careful attention; the light from the sky was hardly enough to navigate by. Ginny loved to watch him fly, but tonight she didn't have a chance to admire his exquisite technique. She was too busy trying not to lose him.   
  
She was surprised to note that he was flying back the way they came, toward the castle. She followed him around the north side, and then up, up, up, until they reached the top of the tallest tower. Harry landed gently on the slanted roof; the balance honed by years of playing Seeker kept him from sliding off the edge. Her landing wasn't nearly as neat; for the second time that night, his arm snaked around her waist to keep her from falling. She leaned against him, clutching fistfuls of his jumper, terrified she'd tumble off the tower's steep roof. "It's all right," Harry said, a soft, reassuring murmur in her ear. "It'll feel better once you sit down."   
  
He helped Ginny ease her shaking legs into a sitting position; the rough surface of the rooftop caught on the back of her robes, but she didn't notice. After he was sure that she was secure, he sat down beside her and drew his hand away.   
  
"Put it back!" Ginny cried, grabbing his arm and firmly returning it to her waist.   
  
He jerked his eyes to hers, obviously startled.   
  
"I'll fall if you don't hold on," she said, clutching his hand, embarrassed by her fear. But the ground was _very_ far away, and the roof of the Astronomy tower was _extremely_ steep.   
  
"It's all right," Harry said, curling his fingers gently into her side. "I promise I won't let you fall."   
  
The only sound was the light moan of the winter wind. It gave Ginny another reason to be glad of his arm around her; she hadn't planned on venturing outside tonight, and wasn't at all dressed for the occasion. She snuggled into his side, shamelessly poaching the warmth of his body. Harry's only response was to scoot marginally closer, his arm around her tightening, pulling her even nearer to his side.   
  
"So," Ginny asked, "what's the surprise?"   
  
He tipped his chin up. Ginny followed his gaze. Her gasp of astonishment was lost in the wind. A meteor shower filled the sky. Shooting stars raced across the velvety black dome, their multi-colored tails criss-crossing into a tapestry of incandescent rainbow threads. "Do you like it?" Harry asked, his warm breath fluttering her hair and tickling her ear.   
  
Ginny nodded, too impressed with the view to give a proper answer.   
  
"I was afraid we'd miss the start," he said.   
  
She leaned her head on his shoulder and, without taking her eyes from the sky, replied, "We haven't missed anything. We got here right on time."   
  
Harry rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I know. I reckon our timing is just about perfect."


End file.
